


Fair Game Week 2020

by CaptainReina



Category: RWBY
Genre: Ballroom Dancing, Cold Weather, Digital Art, Domestic Fluff, Dreams and Nightmares, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fair Game Week (RWBY), Family Feels, Flirting, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Introspection, M/M, References to Depression, Sleepy Cuddles, Sparring, aka i drew something for the last day, and taking corn chips, dramatic rescues, mentions of whiterose, qrow being a bird
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-16
Updated: 2020-03-22
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:27:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23176942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainReina/pseuds/CaptainReina
Summary: Day 1: Flirting/SemblancesDay 2: Date/DomesticDay 3: Family/WeaponsDay 4: Birds/SoulmatesDay 5: Hurt/ComfortDay 6: Atlas Ball/Mantle BattleDay 7: All/Free Day
Relationships: Qrow Branwen/Clover Ebi
Comments: 65
Kudos: 160





	1. Flirting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Nice shirt, though."
> 
> "Yeah?"
> 
> "Yup. Boyfriend material."
> 
> Gods. That was so stupid. Be still, my heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning: gratuitous amounts of gross old men flirting + some innuendos

Clover was incredibly forward with Qrow, and it was going to be the death of him.

At first, he had thought he was imagining it. The winks, the friendly nudges, the warm smiles and genuine pep talks - that silky smooth honeyed voice couldn't just be for him, could it? A grumpy old huntsman that brought nothing but misfortune to those who dared cross his path was hardly Qrow's idea of a desired bachelor. Surely, he was only seeing what he wanted to see. There was no way a successful man like Clover had any interest in him beyond perhaps a stable friendship.

Clover's intentions became impossible to deny, however, once Qrow had the chance to see him interact properly with others. Always polite, even casual with some, but none saw the same gentle, warm man that Qrow had known since their first meeting. Nobody got the same jokes, the motivational speeches, the reassurances, the _flirting._ Qrow had tried to tell himself that perhaps Clover was simply a flirty person, but it was becoming harder and harder to believe that as days and meetings went by in a blur.

He only ever spoke that way to Qrow, and Gods, Qrow had no idea what to do about it. Especially when time only made it _worse._ What started with a teasing lilt and cocky showing-off turned into blatant excuses to be near him and, embarrassingly enough, bold pickup lines.

It was Qrow's own fault, of course - the flirting was far from unwelcome, and Qrow would be a liar if he said he did not want to take Clover up on those offers, but . . . whether he _wanted_ to and whether he _should_ were entirely separate issues. Of course, Clover _had_ to know that Qrow would outright reject him if he did not want it, and only redoubled his efforts when Qrow still had not come to a decision.

It was doing nothing good for Qrow's resolve.

Today was the worst of it, hands down, Qrow decided as he watched Clover shirk his shirt, muscles shifting tantalizingly and tanned skin glistening with sweat. So this was his newest strategy - appealing to Qrow's thirst. Admittedly, it had been far too long since Qrow had allowed himself such things, and watching a bead of sweat roll from his neck to his chest to - to his abs, and . . .

Oh, Gods, Qrow was so screwed. This was just supposed to be a friendly hand-to-hand sparring match. Qrow should have known better. And Clover, damn it, stupid Clover sighed and stretched, flashing that stupid knowing smirk at Qrow.

"Hope you don't mind," that lovely voice said. "It just gets so hot in here!"

"Yeah," was all Qrow had the sense to say, because at least a hot room was just as applicable of an excuse for his burning cheeks.

"Nice shirt, though."

"Yeah?"

"Yup. Boyfriend material."

_Gods. That was so stupid. Be still, my heart._

"You just took it off," Qrow pointed out, and finally, _finally_ it gave Clover pause, long enough for Qrow to will down his blush. But then Clover's smile widened, and dread pooled in Qrow's stomach, because whatever he was about to say, it was going to slaughter him.

"Ah, well. It holds me back." Clover tossed his shirt to the side where there weapons lay discarded, delivering one of his killer winks, and continued, "Why restrict myself to boyfriend status, y'know? I can be _so much more."_

"Aren't I supposed to be kicking your ass right about now?" Qrow said loudly, seconds away from melting into a little puddle, and Clover, the bastard, saw right through him. But finally, he relented, raising his fists.

"Bold of you to assume I won't lay you flat in seconds," he challenged with a grin, and Qrow mimicked his stance.

"Yeah, cause you had great luck last time," Qrow snorted as they circled each other, recalling the last two rounds where he had managed to get Clover to tap out. But Clover quirked that stupid eyebrow, and Qrow was suddenly far less confident about his prior wins.

"In a game of luck," he said, "you know who'll come out on top."

Entirely unwilling to dwell a second longer on the connotations of tops (and bottoms), Qrow took the first swing.

With a laugh that told Qrow his opponent had already won, Clover leaned to the side to dodge the first punch, and widened his stance and bent his knees to avoid being swept by the kick Qrow aimed at his legs. The next kick was aimed high, coming into hard contact with Clover's forearms, but the other man shook it off easily. The next punch was caught in a large hand, and as Clover took the opportunity to grasp his other wrist and tug him close, Qrow knew he was done for.

With a turn and a kick to his calves so quick Qrow hardly processed it, he was thrown down, his back hitting the ground hard. The air was knocked out of his lungs with a rather unceremonious _oof,_ and Qrow let his head fall back onto the floor, watching Clover crack his knuckles proudly with a pout.

"All good down there?" was the smug victory statement, and Qrow coughed out something akin to a laugh.

"All good," he replied. "Not the first time you've taken my breath away."

He wasn't sure what compelled him to say it. He hadn't been the smooth-talking kind since he was in school. Perhaps the lack of air in his lungs took oxygen from his brain, and that loosened his tongue. It was the only explanation he could think of for saying something so _stupid, oh Gods, why did I say that -_

But it was worth it. So worth it, because when Qrow dared to look up to where he was positive he would see a shit-eating grin, there were only wide eyes and slightly parted lips. Qrow watched with fascination as a hint of pink grew on Clover's cheeks, then spread to his nose, then his ears as the man quickly raised a hand to cover his mouth. Qrow sat up, quirking an eyebrow.

"All good?" he echoed, a little unsure, and Clover averted his gaze, looking incredibly nervous.

"I . . . ah." His voice was quieter than the bold tone from before, almost uncharacteristically so. "That . . . I didn't expect that."

"Oh?" Qrow couldn't help the familiar smirk he felt tugging at the corners of his lips, and he rested back casually on one hand. "You can dish it out, but you can't take it?"

"Don't say it," Clover warned as he offered a hand to help Qrow stand. Qrow took it, and then some, daring to lean in closer than perhaps he should have.

"I wonder if that's reflective of . . . _other_ situations we might find ourselves in?"

The flush had quickly spread to consume Clover's entire face, which he covered with both hands, positively steaming as he took a step back. "Shut _up,"_ he groaned. "I'm not - it's been weeks! I didn't expect you to - to - !"

"You did all that flirting thinking I wasn't gonna say something back?" Qrow asked, raising a skeptical brow, and boy did it feel good to be on the opposite end of things for once. He'd missed this - being the cool, collected one while the object of his affections spluttered and stumbled for words. He could sure get used to it again.

"Well, I - you didn't seem the type?"

Qrow _had_ to laugh at that, fond memories resurfacing of the times he was, in fact, _the type._ "You should have seen me in my Beacon days," he said. "I have plenty of raunchy stories to contradict that observation."

Clover seemed to be calming somewhat from his embarrassment, and set his hands on his hips with faux sass. "You think I want to hear about all the other men you wooed?"

Qrow's grin turned sly, and he closed the distance between them again, practically nose-to-nose this time when he said, "I'll just have to make new stories, then, hm?"

Clover spluttered, cheeks practically glowing pink, and it took Qrow a few minutes to stop laughing that time. It felt good to have his confidence back, and especially to use it on as lovely a cause as embarrassing his crush.

Clover had a lot to answer for, after all, and for the next few weeks, answer for it he did. This time, though, they got to share a few cute kisses amongst all the flirting, and it made the payback quite worth it.


	2. Date/Domestic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He wanted to spend every morning like this with his husband, and judging by the fond kiss Clover pressed to the top of his head, said husband was in agreement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings: just married men bein cute (and a few suggestive flirts)

It was supposed to be date night. Their schedules were cleared, their suits pressed, and Qrow was halfway through gelling his hair back when the meteorologist's voice flooded their bedroom and connected bathroom.

"It seems the blizzard that was supposed to hit tomorrow has come early - expect snowfall within the next hour, and it will be building fast. We recommend nobody leave their homes at this time, and if you're out and about, head home immediately. Conditions are about to become hazardous and scroll service may suffer - "

"Just our luck," Qrow joked feebly, shoulders slumping, as Clover turned down the volume and joined his husband in the bathroom. Warm hands settled on his waist, then slid around his front to wrap around him, and Qrow leaned back into the embrace as Clover rested his chin on his shoulder.

"Just our luck," Clover agreed, his tone much lighter than his partner's. He turned his face into Qrow's neck, nuzzling sweetly. "Looks like I'll be getting my movie night after all. I was looking forward to seeing you in a tie, though."

Unable to help himself, Qrow quirked an eyebrow and asked, _"Just_ the tie?"

"How very scandalous of you," Clover hummed, not sounding very scandalized at all. He pressed a kiss to his husband's shoulder, then backed away and returned to the bedroom. "It's a lovely thought, but let's backdate that to sometime when it's not subzero out there."

"It's a date," Qrow said, and Clover's answering laugh was enough to warm him for the entire season.

With their current date canceled, Qrow regrettably went to work washing the wasted product from his hair, and once done towel-drying it he changed from the nice vest and slacks he'd picked out to a large, comfortable green sweater and gray sweatpants. He clambered onto their shared king bed, nestling into Clover's warm side, and relaxed into the embrace as Clover slung an arm over his shoulder and they both watched the newscast.

After a few minutes, though, Clover slipped away and padded out of the bedroom, mentioning warm drinks, and handed Qrow the remote. Already, Qrow felt cold without his presence; it was cold enough now, but it would only grow colder in the next few days, and he was glad for his walking furnace of a husband.

Idly, he switched the screen to a streaming service, and flipped through the movies, none really catching his eye save for one or two he recognized from Clover's excited rambling. Qrow wasn't really the decision-making type. Soon enough, though, Clover returned, delicately balancing two mugs and two plates of something that smelled fantastic on a tray that he carefully set down on his nightstand.

"You are ridiculous," Qrow snorted as he accepted a mug of hot chocolate, of course topped with a tall mountain of whipped cream and sprinkled with cocoa powder to make it look pretty. Clover spared him a glance from the corner of his eye.

"You're wearing my sweater," he pointed out, amused, and Qrow frowned, effectively outed. He handed his husband the remote, who went hunting for something to watch.

"It's comfy," he grumbled, sipping his hot chocolate and licking whipped cream from his upper lip. "Point taken."

Clover sat back down next to him on the bed with a kiss to Qrow's cheek, and took the remote to browse for a good movie. As he did so, Qrow started propping up the pillows to lean back on for optimal movie night viewage, and settled back into them as his husband decided on a movie. Something with two men on the cover, back-to-back, guns blazing. Qrow was not even remotely surprised.

"Food?" he asked as the starting credits began to play, and Clover leaned over to grab a plate and fork.

"I reheated some of the cottage pie from last night." Qrow hummed in appreciation as the food was handed to him. "Careful, it's . . . hot."

Qrow's forkful was already in his mouth, and hot it was. He sucked in a breath, eyes watering, and quickly swallowed down the bite, shaking his head fiercely as his husband laughed at his misfortune. It was his own fault for not listening, but he glared at Clover nonetheless in offense.

"Ow," he complained as Clover's chuckles died down, his chest warming with fondness at that smile even as he pretended to pout.

"I tried to tell you," Clover defended himself, still grinning.

"And I burned my mouth anyway," Qrow relented with a sigh. "I know."

Clover raised his eyebrows in that goofy, flirty way Qrow loved so much, and asked, "Want me to kiss it better?"

Qrow was a fool for Clover's kisses and could never turn them down. Tonight's were tame and sweet, and yet Qrow could never get enough - but after a few Clover pushed lightly at his shoulder with a chuckle.

"Alright, movie's starting."

"Damn. I hoped I could avoid it if I could distract you well enough."

 _"Nothing_ can distract me from a good movie!"

"Is that a challenge?"

"A challenge for another night - I really want you to see this one!"

Qrow relented in the face of his husband's cute enthusiasm, and they settled back against the pillows with their food, shoulders touching, to watch the movie.

He did not burn his mouth again, and the movie was actually quite good. A bit generic in plot, but the humor was clever, with Clover lighting up in delight every time it elicited a laugh from Qrow, and to his surprise the two lead men actually wound up in a relationship by the end. The special effects were decently impressive, too. Despite Clover's dozing off two-thirds of the way through, Qrow actually watched it to the end.

Clover always fell asleep early, as the early riser, and it didn't bother Qrow in the slightest. Once the end credits were rolling, he switched to some show they'd watched before on low volume for background noise, and collected their dirty dishes to bring to the sink. He rinsed them out before returning to bed, and fixed the pillows on his side before disturbing his husband with a few light pats to the thigh.

"Time to lay down," he said when Clover gave a vague, tired grumble, and his husband obediently shifted so that Qrow could reorganize the pillows for him. By the time he was laying down, himself, Clover was fast asleep once more.

Qrow leaned over to his nightstand and turned out the lamp, flooding the room in darkness, before nestling under the covers and curling up against his husband in an effort to keep the cold out. As if by instinct, Clover shifted, turning toward Qrow and draping a huge arm over his husband. Clover's breathing was gentle and easy, and Qrow listened to it and matched it with his own until he was sinking into sleep's welcoming embrace, feeling fuzzy and comfortable and content.

* * *

Qrow awoke to the sun shining in his eyes and a notably empty bed. He groaned, squirming away from the invasive light and cracking an eye open to see its source.

The curtains were closed, as was the norm, but a small gap left between them allowed just the thinnest ray of light through to harass Qrow and steal his final few beloved hours of sleep. And Clover was out of bed, so he couldn't even complain about it or ask him to fix it. Sighing, Qrow shoved his face into his pillow and inwardly begged for sleep to take him again.

Unfortunately, his rising awareness made way for his senses to awaken one by one, and he registered the lovely smell wafting into the bedroom from, presumably, the kitchen. Seconds after, he caught the sound of Clover singing, quiet enough it wouldn't have awoken Qrow but loud enough for him to pick up on the song. It was something cheerful, some new tune popular at the moment and right up Clover's alley, and with fondness growing in his heart Qrow thought he could lie there and listen to his husband sing forever.

But all good things must be interrupted sometime, and after smell and hearing came touch, reminding Qrow it was freezing. Reluctantly, he started to drag himself out of bed; it was colder away from the covers, but Clover would be warm, and he never minded Qrow clinging to him to leech his heat. The cooking probably made the kitchen nice and toasty, too.

Slipping on some ridiculous pink slippers his nieces had given him the past holiday, he shuffled out into the hall, then the living room. Ever perceptive, Clover's singing stopped, replaced with a cheery call of, "Morning, sunshine!"

Qrow had not yet retained his ability to speak, so he only gave an incoherent, albeit generally friendly, grumble back. He approached the thermostat near the door, upping it a few degrees before heading toward the kitchen. Clover's back was turned to him, but he glanced over his shoulder long enough to greet his husband with a bright smile. Several things were sizzling satisfyingly on the stove.

"Did you touch the thermostat?" Clover asked by way of greeting as Qrow's arms slid around his waist, head thudding softly against his shoulder.

"You sound like Tai," Qrow replied, then yawned. "You're not even a dad."

"Yet," Clover said, and Qrow huffed in quiet amusement.

"Yet," he agreed. "Still too cold."

"I think it's lovely!"

"Easy for you to say. You're hotter than the sun."

"Why, thank you - "

"Oh, shut up."

Clover laughed, that lovely, deep sound that melted Qrow's heart no matter how often he heard it, and Clover turned his head to press a kiss to Qrow's temple. "Plates?"

Obediently (though reluctantly) Qrow stepped away from his personal heater to collect a few plates and forks, and Clover scooped a ridiculous variety of food - sausage, bacon, eggs, hash browns, and even pancakes - onto them. It smelled heavenly, and Qrow's stomach growled loudly, earning a laugh from Clover.

"Why don't you take the food to the couch, and I'll make us some coffee?"

"Please," Qrow sighed, the promise of caffeine one that spoke to his heart, and headed to the living room after a brief, sweet kiss.

He turned on the television after setting the plates on the table, curling up on the couch in wait, and switched over to the news. Most people seemed to be snowed in, including their building. Qrow remembered the thermometer and realized with some satisfaction it had already become much more habitable in their apartment. That was a relief - as much as he loved cuddling his husband, he preferred it to remain recreational, not out of necessity.

Clover joined him soon with a steaming mug, and Qrow took a grateful sip, humming pleasantly at the bitter taste and spreading warmth. Just the right amount of cream and sugar, as always. Clover made a good cup of coffee.

As his husband produced his scroll to call his boss and let him know they'd likely be snowed in for a few days, Qrow nestled comfortably against his side with his food. He didn't mind being stuck inside for a few more days. As important as he felt their work was, this was a totally viable and well-deserved way to spend an impromptu vacation.

He wanted to spend every morning like this with his husband, and judging by the fond kiss Clover pressed to the top of his head, said husband was in agreement.


	3. Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As they grew and no longer needed their Uncle Qrow, as things grew bleak and the drinking got bad, Ruby's heart ached for the man she'd grown up looking up to.
> 
> Then Uncle Clover came along.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings: past alcoholism and depression

For her entire life, there was no one Ruby loved more than her Uncle Qrow.

Her mother was wonderful and beautiful, and Ruby missed her. Her father was kind and protective, and Ruby appreciated him. Her sister was fierce and supportive, and Ruby looked up to her.

But Qrow was not like the rest of the family - he was someone she saw enough of to love, but missed just enough to be elated when they met again. He was so _different_ from the lot of them. Where her family was loud and cheerful and bright like the sun, Qrow was gentle and calm like the moon. He subverted expectations not only by managing to be a cool figure related to a bunch of wild cards, but by following that up with still being kind and caring. Where many expected him to be distant, he was affectionate, and as a child Ruby felt like she was in on some kind of deep, important secret just by knowing it.

Qrow also provided the girls with experiences Taiyang simply couldn't give them as children. Taiyang was patient with his daughters, but Qrow always seemed _excited_ to entertain his nieces. Where her father struggled to understand games, Qrow gave them a score to top on the leaderboard. When Taiyang grunted with the effort of swinging his girls around, their uncle was there to scoop them onto his shoulders without breaking a sweat. Where Taiyang struggled to teach Ruby to become the kind of huntress her mother was, Qrow stepped in to pass down the torch. And sure, while eventually they beat his scores, and eventually the day came where Qrow could no longer throw Ruby over his shoulder with ease, and finally the time came when she could beat him in combat, Ruby would always fondly remember the experiences he gave them.

And as she grew, her affection for her uncle grew with her, and changed as much as herself. She began to understand him better. The day Ruby finally fit the pieces together that her uncle was mentally ill was the day the puzzle seemed to complete itself. He had so much love to give his nieces because there was nobody else to offer it to. He was excited to see them because they were a welcome change to the life and duties of a huntsman. Qrow gave them everything he could because they gave him something worth so much more - a reason to go on. And as they grew and no longer needed their Uncle Qrow, as things grew bleak and the drinking got bad, Ruby's heart ached for the man she'd grown up looking up to.

Then Uncle Clover came along.

She had tried not to be nosy, at first, she really had. She had done her best to stay out of it and not pry. Clover was a cool guy, a fantastic huntsman, and _one thousand percent_ her uncle's type, but as much as Ruby loved him, she had to admit that Qrow had a habit of intentionally sabotaging any good things that came to him, so she told herself to be patient and not push. To wait either until things had progressed and Qrow was announcing the good news, or until her uncle pushed this sweet man away and returned to old habits.

But Qrow began to change, somewhere along the way. He walked straighter, spoke louder, and by the Brothers, was that a smile over a smirk? And every time he did, there was Clover, always nearby, with such a transparent mask on his face, failing to hide his glowing pride. Ruby would know - she felt it too. Clover not only brought back the caring uncle that had given Ruby an amazing childhood, but healed him, filled the parts of him that had been missing even back then, and Ruby had no words to properly express the gratitude she felt toward Clover.

When Qrow meekly announced the relationship and all Ruby could do was throw herself at Clover in a squeezing hug, though, he seemed to get the message just fine.

Clover gave so much to Qrow, loved him so deeply that even an outsider like Ruby could see it, and every time she caught the exchanges they shared it was like the love was contagious - the urge to turn around and love on Weiss each time was almost overwhelming, like she couldn't help but pass it on. And as Clover gave his all to Qrow, Qrow grew and healed to the point he could give everything back, could love Clover as much as he was loved, and Ruby's heart swelled to see her uncle so happy. Her uncles.

Clover was wonderful for him . . . but perhaps _too_ wonderful. Not everything could go Qrow's way, it seemed, and the price of his happiness was his place as Ruby's favorite. And he seemed . . . mostly alright with that. Clover was just so cool, and _new,_ and a bit more relatable to a young excitable girl than Qrow. He had stories Ruby hadn't heard yet and lessons she still had to learn.

And he could still hoist an almost fully-grown young lady onto his shoulders. That, admittedly, was the part that seemed to make Qrow jealous, but all it took was one flex of those impressive muscles for him to forget his grumpiness and dissolve into embarrassment. Both Ruby and Qrow were simple people with simple needs - big muscle person. Admittedly, for different purposes, but it remained true.

Qrow couldn't fault his niece too much for having the same favorite person, anyway.


	4. Birds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What were the odds? The first day in possibly months that birds were about, and one came flying through his open window?
> 
> “Uh … hi?” Clover said lamely, remaining firmly in his seat as the - the raven? crow? - continued to stare. “Can I help you, little buddy?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings: mild injuries + qrow’s poor self image. also flirting

It started one pleasant evening after work.

Solitas was always cold, of course, but that day the sun had been shining brightly enough to melt much of the snow, and Clover spent more time than he probably should have reveling in the rare warmth it brought. When his work was done for the day, he took his time walking Qrow home, not just for the time with his partner but also to enjoy the weather just a little longer. And when he got home, reluctantly retiring to the solitude of his bedroom, he opened the window, allowing a light breeze to waft in.

The day had been a good one, if a slow one, and as he settled in front of his computer he sighed at the thought that tomorrow would likely be freezing once more. The birds that had been present in celebration, the civilians that had come out to enjoy the sun, and the beauty of the clear sky would be gone. It had been nice while it lasted. Now, it was time to get to work on his daily report.

Just as Clover was beginning to hunt through his files, though, lamenting the end of the day, there was a soft rustle behind him.

He turned his head quickly, chair swiveling with him, and almost yelped at the sight that greeted him. A bird sat on the windowsill, sleek and black, cocking its head and staring at him with beady little eyes. What were the odds? The first day in possibly months that birds were about, and one came flying through his open window?

"Uh . . . hi?" Clover said lamely, remaining firmly in his seat as the - the raven? crow? - continued to stare. "Can I help you, little buddy?"

To his dismay, the crow took a few little steps on the windowsill, officially inside the room now. Clover definitely wasn't afraid of a little bird, but the idea of a wild animal thinking itself trapped in his bedroom was incredibly unappealing. He hardly needed to deal with a panicked bird flying around his room, making a mess of things. But the bird only tilted its head the other way, calm and quiet, and eventually Clover relaxed a little. It was probably just resting.

He really needed to get to work, so he reluctantly turned back to his computer. He would leave the crow be - doing a quick search to verify that it was, in fact, a crow - and hopefully, once done resting, it would head out again. Still, he stole glances back at it every once in a while as he worked, and though it remained harmlessly on the windowsill, the sun began to set and still it remained. Even as Clover finished typing up his report, it seemed comfortable in its spot.

It was growing cold in the room, though, with the sun's gradual disappearance, and Clover turned back to the crow, meeting its curious gaze. It had settled on the windowsill in a little patch of fading sunlight, its bright yellow feet hidden under its body. It was . . . sort of cute. But Clover needed to close his window, and it couldn't stay inside, no matter how guilty he felt for leaving it out in the cold, so he stood and slowly, carefully approached the window.

"Okay, little buddy," he said, emboldened somewhat by the cool way it blinked up at him, unmoving. "It's time for you to go."

The crow stood and shook its feathers out as he came closer, not acting particularly threatened, and for a moment Clover thought it might fight him on leaving. But it waddled toward outside, gave a little shake of its feathers, and stepped off the windowsill, spreading its wings and flying off into the cool evening air.

Baffled but altogether content that his visitor had left without fuss, Clover closed his window and moved on with his report.

* * *

Clover briefly mentioned the experience to Qrow the next day during one of their frequent card games, joking that one of his buddies had come to visit, to which his partner had only rolled his eyes, obviously not new to bird jokes. Qrow did, however, offer a bit of casual insight.

"Crows are pretty intelligent, you know," he said as they drew cards. "He could probably tell you were cool with him."

"How do you know it's a he?" Clover teased, to which Qrow smirked.

"We both know what kind of company you attract," he joked, earning a deep laugh, and Clover supposed he had a point.

He very well forgot all about it afterward, though, getting wrapped up in their game, and after that, their mission. It was a long and tedious delivery, then a longer and even more tedious process of overseeing distribution of materials. It was deathly boring, and Clover envied how Qrow and the kids could leave whenever they pleased.

Qrow did stick around for a little while to keep him company, but eventually, it seemed, the cold got to him, and they parted with a quick, secretive kiss and sweet smiles and quiet _see-you-laters._ Clover wasn't pleased to be left alone, but it gave him the pep in his step he needed to see his job finished, and soon enough he was on a truck home, dozing in the passenger's seat and thinking fondly of his bed.

He'd have to type up his daily report first, of course, but the sooner he did that, the sooner he could sleep. He greatly looked forward to that part.

He was home eventually, and he dragged himself up the many stairs of the tall building and fumbled with his room key. Report, then bed. He was almost there. He made it inside, the door clicking quietly shut behind him, and dropped into his chair, booting up his computer. He stared at the loading screen for what felt like hours, and it took him several moments to process the light tapping at his window.

He swung his head around, blinking blearily at its source, and nearly fell out of his chair in surprise when he saw familiar little beady eyes staring back.

It took several seconds of staring at the bird outside his window, huddling against the cold and shuffling its bright little feet to warm it against the frost on the sill outside. There was another insistent little tap against the glass, and though Clover hesitated, he eventually stood and shuffled toward the window. It was only going to get colder out as the night went on, and Clover found himself feeling too guilty to let the crow freeze right outside his window.

He almost expected the crow to fly away when he opened the window, but it hopped right over the threshold with a little croak of greeting. Clover watched with a mix of curiosity and bemusement as it waddled along the windowsill and, with a little hop and a couple flaps of his wings, the crow crossed to Clover's desk. It settled down near his screen's projector, undoubtedly warm, and Clover couldn't help but chuckle.

After a moment's contemplation, Clover closed the window most of the way - if Qrow was right about the bird's intelligence, the crow could slip out on its own anytime it wanted. Satisfied with that, Clover returned to his desk chair, and the bird stared curiously up at him as Clover typed in his password and got to work.

"What're you even doing out when it's this cold, anyway?" he mused, propping his chin up on his hand as they stared each other down. "You should be flying south, or tucked away somewhere warm."

The cawing noise that the crow gave in response startled him, and he jumped minutely in his seat at how loud it was in the otherwise quiet room. After a moment of staring incredulously at the bird, Clover started to laugh at his own overreaction, and rubbed tiredly at his eyes. He really needed some rest. The crow was doing a great job of distracting him from the work he needed to do before bed, though.

"Did your flock leave without you, maybe?" Clover mused, knowing fully well he wouldn't get an answer. Against his better judgement, which was telling him that trying to touch an untamed animal was a bad idea, he reached a hand out anyway, and couldn't help but smile wide when the crow allowed him to run a gentle finger over its head and down its back. "Well, whatever it is, you're free to hang out as long as you don't make a mess of the place."

He felt a little silly, talking so freely to it - Qrow could vouch for their intelligence all he wanted, but it was another thing altogether for a bird to understand human speech. But the bird remained quiet and relaxed, huddled a few inches away on the desk, and stayed there the entire time as Clover typed up his report and sent it to his superiors. At some point, Clover was pretty sure the bird had fallen asleep - its flank moved slowly with its breathing and its eyes were gently closed.

The dull clicking of the keyboard was lulling him quickly once more despite the excitement of the evening, and once he had finished up his report he was eager to change into his pajamas and turn out the light. The crow stirred at the loud click of the lamp going out, and Clover watched from his bed as it puffed out its feathers and stretched its neck out rather cutely. It took one look at Clover, sitting on his bed, and started to totter over to the window, a bit uncoordinated from its nap.

"Hey, wait," Clover blurted, and the bird glanced at him. "You don't have to go, it's freezing out."

Of course it was absurd to think the bird would listen, and after another moment it waddled through the small gap in the window and took off into the night. Clover eventually settled into bed, though he did wonder about the crow's whereabouts, and hoped it found somewhere warm to spend the night.

* * *

Wherever the bird had spent the night, it was back the next evening, once again almost the moment he entered his quarters. Clover opened the window and it hopped in with ease; the man considered leaving his window open, but with as cold as Solitas got, he knew he would regret the decision. Instead, he hoped that the crow had some warm place to hide in during the day, or at least that the sunshine helped.

Clover was home early that day, though none of his acquaintances were available to hang out, so he spent much of his time in front of his television, watching some mindless drama to waste time. At some point, he had produced a few snacks from his cabinets, and settled back down onto his bed to continue the show.

The crow, who had been settled on one of his bedposts, turned its head to stare as he pulled open a bag of corn chips.

"Oh - these?" Clover stared apprehensively between the crow and his chips. "I don't know if these are good for you, buddy."

The crow continued to stare, unblinking, and Clover's resolve slipped. After all, who knew if the little guy was getting enough to eat? And it wasn't trying to steal, or anything. It just _wanted._ So, with only a little hesitance, Clover pulled a single corn chip from the bag and held it out to the crow.

"Here - oh!"

The crow moved quickly to Clover's leg, who froze as the crow settled on his knee and plucked the corn chip from his fingers. It held the chip under one tiny foot as it broke off little pieces to crunch on, ignoring Clover's near heart attack at the sudden motion. After a moment, though, he relaxed, and watched contentedly as the crow snacked cheerfully on the chip.

"Cute," Clover mused, and the crow fluffed out its feathers in response.

Every once in a while, Clover offered another corn chip, which the crow gladly accepted, until the sun began to set and the room grew dark. Yawning, Clover stretched, startling the bird into hopping off his lap, and scooted up to his pillow. Already having changed into comfortable clothes, he settled under the blankets, and the bird settled comfortably on the windowsill.

When he fell asleep, the crow was still there, though it was gone by morning.

* * *

The crow became a semi-permanent fixture in Clover's room. It was always waiting for him when he got home, and sometimes Clover shared his food with him. Always, the crow was gone by morning, and Clover stopped worrying about its fate during the day, only curious as to what it was up to.

Today, however, Clover was running late to get home. The day's mission had brought them to Mantle, so the walk home led Clover through dark streets filled with questionable characters. Already, the sun was going down, and Clover worried that his bird friend would freeze before he got home to let it in. Hopefully he would make it in time.

Of course, Clover took as many shortcuts as he could, and of course winding alleys were hardly a good path for anyone to traverse, and _of course_ the people of Mantle wouldn't take kindly to a cop roaming their streets. Of course Clover would find himself caged in a grimy alley between four men, and of course they would be sneering at him, clearly not looking to talk.

"Look here," one said, "one of Atlas' finest, isn't he?"

"Evening, gentlemen," Clover said in the most friendly tone he could muster. He really did not want to fight civilians, especially with the military's reputation so bad - especially when at least two were sporting weapons. Civilians with training, then. Clover would not likely escape a fight with them unscathed. "Something I can do for you?"

"Look around," another man snorted, gesturing vaguely with one hand. "Plenty you could be doing for us, but what do we get?"

"Nothing," another one spat, and the others grumbled agreement.

"I wish I could help - "

"Liar."

" - but I'm not in charge. I promise, General Ironwood is doing his best to promote the security and safety of Mantle's citizens - "

"Oh, shut it," one of them interrupted, sounding annoyed. "That tin can tell you to recite that garbage?"

"Let's just get this over with," another suggested, and Clover heard mechanical clicking. "Give him a reason not to come back."

"Now, now," Clover protested, though he did not hesitate to unravel Kingfisher from his waist, "let's just talk about this. I don't want to hurt you."

But it seemed the time for talk was over, the men slowly caving in, and with a sigh Clover prepared to fight. The thought of the crow waiting back at home, shivering outside his window, nagged at his mind, and he started to wonder if perhaps he should run. He could probably vault over the two men in front of him with a little bit of luck, and Brothers knew Clover had enough of that -

A loud caw sounded overhead, and though the men ignored it, Clover instinctively looked up. It was silly to think this crow circling the alley could be _his_ crow, though, so Clover started to return his attention to the looming fight - but just in time caught the sight of the bird launching into a nosedive. It was a tiny black blur as it sped down between the buildings, making a beeline for the group, and just before it hit the ground it -

\- it turned into -

 _"Qrow?"_ Clover blurted in shock as the man landed in a crouch before him, weapon clicking and whirring noisily into action. His partner turned and shot him the most charming smirk Clover had _ever_ seen on those handsome features, admittedly making his knees a little weak.

"Talk later, Cloves," Qrow chuckled, then turned his back to him. "Let's deal with this first. You guys still up for a fight?"

"Where the hell did this one come from?!"

"Must have dropped from the roof - showy jackass - "

"I'm taking that as a yes," Qrow interrupted, then leapt into action.

As dazed as he was and as badly as he wanted to see Qrow at work, Clover had more pressing matters to attend to. As he heard blades clash behind him, Clover turned his attention to the two men on their other side. With Qrow at his back, Clover's odds of success were greatly improved, and he leapt into the fray - with a quick flick of Kingfisher, he disarmed one of his assailants before they even clashed, and the other lost his weapon mere seconds into the tussle that followed.

Left with hand-to-hand, Clover knew his victory was assured. The men may have had training in the past, but Clover was kept in practice nearly every day, and it only took a few moments of ducking and weaving around the men to wrap the line of his weapon around them. Pulling it taut, he yanked them both to the ground, earning twin yelps of angry shock.

Glancing behind him, he found Qrow had incapacitated one of his adversaries but was still marching the other blow for blow - notably only using his weapon to parry - and with a mischievous grin tugging at his lips Clover shouted, "Duck!"

The moment Qrow obeyed, Clover used all his strength to swing the captive men at their buddy. They crashed together with frightened yelps, and before Qrow had time to process what had happened Clover was seizing his hand and leading him from the alleyway in a sprint. They ducked out of the alleyway and down the street, ignoring looks from passersby as they hurried away from the scene, Clover not even thinking to release Qrow's hand until the latter was slowing them down.

"Pretty sure we're far enough, now," he said, and Clover took the unspoken prompt to let go. He turned to face Qrow, and promptly started - his usually nice new clothes were unkempt, his hair mussed, and there was a rapidly purpling bruise on his jaw. Instinctively, Clover reached forward to inspect it, and expectedly, Qrow pulled back with a wince.

"They got you good," Clover said sympathetically, and watched Qrow raise a subconscious hand to the bruise. "Your aura - ?"

"No, I'm fine," Qrow cut across his words quickly. "I . . . out in the field, you get used to ignoring the little things. Saving aura for more important stuff. It'll heal."

That statement held the weight of years of experiences Clover could not even begin to fathom - under Ironwood's wing, Clover knew he had been sheltered from much of the more dangerous aspects of his job for fear of losing a valuable asset - so he left it alone. Instead, he said, "Well, thanks for dropping in. I appreciate the help."

"You're not mad?"

That gave Clover pause. Apparently enough pause that Qrow averted his gaze, a hand coming up to rub at his neck. "Why would I be mad?" he finally asked.

"I don't know. Keeping secrets, hiding important information, betrayal of trust." Qrow shrugged, as if such things weren't abhorrent responses. "That kind of thing."

"What?" was all Clover could say. And them, "No, Qrow, that's ridiculous. I mean, I'm - you can turn into a bird, and I'm still processing that, but I'm not even close to mad, just . . . in awe?"

" . . . yeah?"

"I mean, that's . . . magic, right?" Clover asked, and after a hesitant moment Qrow nodded. "Of course you'd hide it from the world. And I don't think those guys back there noticed, so we should be safe, right?"

"You're taking this a lot better than Ruby and her friends," Qrow remarked, and Clover couldn't help a chuckle.

"They're kids," he pointed out. "Not a lot phases me anymore."

Qrow nodded, and it seemed there was nothing left to say. But they were still standing outside in the cold dark, and Qrow was still looking away from him, seeming so downcast, and Clover could only wonder as to what he was thinking. But he wanted to do something about those hunched shoulders and that skittish behavior, so after a moment's pause Clover reached out again to tilt Qrow's chin up, careful not to touch the bruise. Qrow was receptive to the touch, a good sign, and dull red met sparkling green.

"You okay?"

"Yeah. I'm just . . . not really used to this."

"Seems I excel at exceeding your expectations," Clover mused, tracing a thumb over Qrow's cheek, and Qrow placed his own hand over it.

"Yeah, you do," he agreed with a small smile. "It's a nice change. You take just about anything that comes your way, huh?" A brief, contemplative pause, and then, a little shyly, "Even a dusty old crow coming by to visit."

Clover's jaw dropped, and Qrow's smile widened into a grin. "You," Clover sputtered, "that was you?!"

"The one and only," Qrow hummed nonchalantly.

"You - you ate all my corn chips!"

"I couldn't help myself," Qrow replied lightly. "I like them. And after all, you gave it up so easily."

Clover gaped, the euphemism not lost on him, and as Qrow laughed heat spread over his cheeks. Not to be outdone, however, Clover stammered, "Yeah, well - you're really cute as a bird!"

It was Qrow's turn to flush brightly. "Well, that's - that's just the way birds look!"

"Cute," Clover repeated insistently, earning a low noise of disapproval. "I do wish you'd just come by as yourself, though. I wouldn't mind."

"I wouldn't have to leave out the window at night?" Qrow joked, though past it was a note of interest.

"You don't have to leave at all, if you don't want to," Clover replied genuinely.

"It is getting cold," Qrow said after a small pause, and to Clover's delight grabbed for his hand. "And your place is closer than mine."

"And you know just how warm the computer protector gets," Clover teased as they headed out, hand in hand. Qrow shrugged.

"I can think of better ways to keep warm."

And once they'd found their way indoors, he had done just that, the two of them knocking right out in Clover's bed after their overly exciting evening.


	5. Hurt/Comfort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m still here, anyway. Thanks to you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings: vol7c12 stuff

_Biting words. Betrayal. Bitter anger. A hand at his back that doesn’t belong there._

_Hurt. Hope. A glimmer of potential. Almost -_

_A sickeningly wet noise, a gurgle, silence. A manic cackle._

_Despair._

_The world crumbles._

.

Qrow awoke suddenly with a soft cry.

Gasping for breath, he shot upward from the pillow, chest heaving and body trembling. He was not in a frozen wasteland, no, but rather a cozy bedroom, and there was no blood on the hand he brought up to his mouth. Sweat covered him in a light sheen, skin feverish and too-warm, and his stomach twisted and tossed with nausea. His comfortable surroundings did nothing to help his plight, the guilt that was making his chest tight and heart throb more powerful than the calm atmosphere.

A clumsy hand settled on the small of his back, and when he turned there were sleepy green eyes peering up at him. “C'mere,” came the tired, gruff mumble, and though the guilt twisted harder at having woken him, Qrow inevitably accepted the invitation. With Clover’s arm wrapped around him, his tense muscles began to relax minutely, his panic finally fading in the wake of irrefutable evidence that it was simply a nightmare.

Clover showed no care for the sweat on Qrow’s skin, nor the tears that trailed down his cheeks. He merely pulled his boyfriend close, chin atop Qrow’s head, and was the calm presence Qrow needed to slow his heart rate and breathing. Qrow’s cheek rested against Clover’s chest, and he could see the long, ugly scar that ran down at least half of Clover’s torso. His hands circled around his partner’s back, cold fingers brushing over the matching, longer scar on Clover’s back, and Qrow felt him shiver lightly.

“I was asking for it,” Clover snorted softly, already aware of the guilt chewing at Qrow.

“I killed you,” Qrow whispered back. He never could keep the horrified note from his voice. “Nothing warrants that.”

“You didn’t,” Clover replied, a little sharper through the tired haze; then, more gently, “I’m still here, anyway. Thanks to you.”

Somehow, the memory of fighting over the use of the Staff of Creation didn’t do much to make Qrow feel better, but the warm hands on his back and soft breath rustling his hair were a different story. Clover pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead, and slowly, gradually, Qrow allowed himself to relax, letting his eyes slide gently closed.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he murmured sleepily, the receding panic making way for exhaustion. Clover gave an amused little huff that Qrow felt against his scalp.

“Me too.”


	6. Atlas Ball

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What are you getting up to, princess?” Qrow asked, not missing the scroll in Weiss’s hand that most definitely did not belong to her.
> 
> “Nothing illegal,” she replied. “What about you?”
> 
> Nothing illegal,” Qrow echoed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings: just a teensy bit of blink-and-you’ll-miss-it qrow being depresso

"Back so soon?"

It was with quiet surprise Qrow regarded Clover, sidling casually up next to him at the refreshments table. Over the chatter of posh guests and the sweet notes of the professional orchestra, their words were silent, and amidst the clashing colors of moving bodies they were all but invisible. Clover's smile was sweet, absurdly so, and he held out an offering hand.

"I'd hoped to squeeze in a few dances before the night ends," he said as Qrow clasped their hands together, and he led them out onto the floor. "I have a feeling it's going to be early."

"There does seem to be something stirring," Qrow hummed. He allowed Clover to lead him into a simple waltz, one he was surprised he could remember. "But I doubt you came out here to talk about things inevitably going awry."

"I didn't," Clover agreed, and that was that.

It was nice, moving about the room, weaving through other couples, ignoring their menial conversation in favor of talking to one another. They spoke of nothing in particular, of course, content nearly to be in one another's presence for a rare peaceful moment, and though Qrow managed to step on his partner's feet twice, they managed to forget the world for just a little while.

Of course such things couldn't last forever, and after some time they grew tired of the strange looks directed at them by other partygoers. They certainly did look quite uncultured next to the glimmering dresses and neatly pressed suits, and after Qrow's luck had run out and he found himself bumping into a rather noisily upset woman, they decided the dance floor was no longer for them.

The refreshments table was not an option for a downcast, guilty Qrow, with far too much alcohol offered, so it was to a secluded hall that they made their way. A breath of air that lacked perfume and a bit of quiet was all they wished for at the moment.

"Not even any security," Clover remarked, which was only a good thing for Qrow, who hardly wanted to be under anyone's scrutinizing gaze at the moment.

Deciding their chosen spot was still too close to the ball for proper privacy, however, they opted to turn deeper into the halls of the Schnee manor, and literally ran into another wandering partygoer somewhere they shouldn't be.

"Weiss?"

"Qrow? Clover?"

"What are you getting up to, princess?" Qrow asked, not missing the scroll in Weiss's hand that most definitely did not belong to her. She merely crossed her arms, however, hiding it from view.

"Nothing illegal," she replied with a wary glance at Clover, who held his hands up in a placating gesture of _I don't see anything._ "What about you?"

"Nothing illegal," Qrow echoed, a small smirk tugging at his lips, and she mirrored it with one of her own. Quite intentionally, her eyes slid between the two of them, and she offered Qrow a vaguely patronizing pat on the shoulder as she passed by them.

"Oh, I'm sure," Weiss said with an airy, knowing laugh. "Don't get caught back here, you two."

"You're just gonna let her think we're up to something scandalous, huh?" Clover mused, not sounding very bothered by it at all. Qrow only chuckled.

"They'll all think that no matter how much I protest."

And perhaps they did share a few kisses, seated against the wall of an abandoned hallway, where there were no scrutinizing eyes to follow them. Perhaps they enjoyed their time alone far more than they should have. But nobody could claim to know, despite the teasing that ensued once they finally returned to the group after the premature end of the evening. Nobody had seen or heard, and even Weiss kept her mouth shut about finding them.

It was a far better way to spend the party than dancing, anyway, even if they did miss all the excitement.


	7. Free Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm tired of writing so here, have a lazy sketch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading ♤

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Movie Night](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23316874) by [ospreyx](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ospreyx/pseuds/ospreyx)




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